The jacket

The piste was empty. Adults only in my salle, and even they had gone home. Weapons racked. I did not want a blade anywhere near the next hour. I stood in the plain white jacket, no lettering, no patch with a word on it, mask under my arm, and I waited for Alain. He is the other coach. He is not my student. He has never been my student. I need that sentence in the room before I touch him.

I set the mask on the bench, walked to him, and said we are not having a lesson. You are the man I date. If you want this, nod, and then you do what I say until one of us ends it. He nodded. I asked him to say it. He said I want this, Dominique, and I know I can stop us. Good.

I kept the jacket on. That was the point of the first half. The heavy cloth, the stance, the fact that I was still dressed like the job and choosing him anyway. I told him to kneel. He did, on the piste, looking up, amused, his cock hard, and careful. I unzipped only enough to free my chest and told him to use his mouth on my cunt. He did, hands on my hips because I put them there, tongue on my clit, taking direction when I said slower or right there. I held his shoulder and I came with my knees soft and my voice even, telling him yes, stay, just like that.

Then I said stand, and I unzipped the jacket the rest of the way, nothing written flashing because nothing was written, black shirt under it, his hands waiting until I told him he could touch. He fucked me against the bench, cock in my cunt, with my permission at every change, my leg up, his eyes on mine, the mask on the wood beside us and not on anyone's face. I set the speed of that fuck. I told him when he could finish. He came when I said, shaking, saying my name like the man I date. After, I zipped nothing. I kissed him. I said the students are not part of this and they never will be. He said he knows. The jacket hung open, plain as a sheet.